


Wait for Me

by EvilAtrocities



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cutting, Desperation, Drugs, Gore, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Incest, M/M, Stancest - Freeform, Suicide, Violence, fiddauthor - Freeform, stanchez
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilAtrocities/pseuds/EvilAtrocities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford's project works just fine, he's excited, and when he finally gets accepted to the college of his dreams, he knows he'll get a well-paying job - and then he and Stan can move away forever.<br/>But Ford doesn't mention his plan to his brother, and he's shocked when he gets a call from home.<br/>After an argument at the hospital, Stan tells his twin to move on, and ends up bumping into Rick.<br/>Five years pass, and when Stan sees him again, he's with Fiddleford.</p><p>//  The sins I create, guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well now Rick AND Fiddleford has been added into it, I apologize.

  Ford's rather surprised when he's pulled out of class for a phone call. Surely it was just his father with another list of questions to ask about his success, how the college campus was going. He steps into the office and sees the woman behind the desk make a slight face, but he ignores it before picking up the phone nearby.  
  "Stanford Pines-"

  "Ford, sweetie, baby, you gotta come home," it was his mother's tone on the other end, shaky, she sounded like she'd been crying since her voice was so scraggly. "J-just for a little bit, alright?"

  Ford sits down in the seat by the telephone. "Ma ? What's going on?? What happened-"

  "Stanley, Stanley, my little free spirit," she sobs shakily, but manages to compose herself once more so she can speak again. "Y..your brother.. your brother tried to kill himself last night."

  The words ring and echo in Ford's ears and it feels like all the blood has drained from his face. She's just toying with him. No - Stanley's just toying with him. It had been three or four months since Ford had started attending West Coast Tech, and he hadn't received a single letter from his brother, but he assumed he was just doing what he always did - he sat around, read comics, stuffed his face, watched TV. Stanley would never..

  "He-he won't talk to anybody," his mother continued, "N-not me, not the doctors, not any of the therapists they've brought in here.." she reams at the side of her face, waiting to hear her son speak up again. "S-Stanford?"

  "..Ma, I'll - I'll come home.. ..tell Stan, I'm coming, alright??" He feels himself wobble to his feet. "I'll - I'll take a week off and then - maybe Stan can come stay in my dorm, just.. I'll be there, okay?" He knows the drive will be long, but he can't wait, he slams the phone down, and then he's off. To head back to New Jersey. To save his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford returns to his hometown in New Jersey to find his brother.

  Ford feels his heart sink to his stomach as he enters the hospital room. The main color is a sickening white. A few light splotches of yellow on the disgusting tiled floor. The curtains are a soft gray, and they're blocking out all light. 

  His mother would've still been in the hospital room, but after she spent the first few hours talking to Stanley and gaining no response, she'd given up.

  _Oh Stanley._

  His younger twin is pale in the bed, but not nearly as white as the rest of the room is themed. He has thick bandages wrapped around his wrists and his neck is coated in dark and soft bruises, in the shape of his thumbs and fingers. His eyes are shut, and his breathing is even, but Ford can tell that his twin isn't asleep. His sloppy brown locks are shifted to the right side of his face like always, but his hair has lost some of it's shine.

  The heart monitor beeps quietly, and Ford shuts the door back, making his brother flinch softly. Brown eyes slowly glance up, meeting Ford's. And his heart aches as he watches Stan's face fill with guilt, embarrassment, shame. But most of all - _hurt._

  "..Stanley." He says slowly, walking over, and he watches as his twin raises the bed sheets up nervously, as if prepared to run. "Stanley, please.. .. talk to me.. tell me what's going on.." his six-fingered hand settles overtop one of Stan's, and he watches his brother's panic, and fear ease away.

  "..Are you mad at me??" He asks slowly, and it was funny, because Ford couldn't recall how many times he'd heard his brother ask that.

  "A little.." He admits, the room settling into an uncomfortable silence other than Stanley's breathing and the heart monitor. "..What's going on..?" Ford repeats, desperate to know what on Earth could drive Stanley to this point.

  He watches the pain form on his sibling's face again. And then he decides, that he's not sure he could actually deal with what Stanley had to say.


	3. Chapter 3

  "You left me alone." Stan's voice is low, perhaps because his neck was sore, or maybe because he was just tired. Either way, it was almost hard to hear him, but Ford's automatically defending himself before he's even finished with his rant.

  "But Stanley, I-"

  "Ford, will you quit your yacking for five seconds?" He hisses, and though Ford would usually correct his brother and tell him that his rambling would take more than just a few seconds - but all of this was serious..

  "..You left me alone. I thought you cared, you didn't care. All you cared about was your stupid dream school." His voice is breaking and Ford glances up to see tears in his twin's eyes, and he can't stand it.

  "..Stanley-"

  "I-I'm not finished.. you left me all alone.. you left me with ma and dad.. I - I barely managed to graduate.. and that was only because of you. And then - then you up and left me for that shitty college.." He rubs at his eyes, his free hand grasping at the sheets tightly. "I was alone, and I - I didn't.. ..kn..ow what to do with myself." Those words make Ford a little uneasy.

  "..What do you mean, Stan?"

  "Don't act like you're fucking dumb, Sixer. I-I don't know what to do.. look at you, you already have something you love, something you're interested in, something you'll do for the rest of your life.." he glanced away as more tears dripped down his cheeks, gulping hard. "The only thing I've ever been interested in is you - and you left me. You didn't care what happened to me.. you didn't care where I went, you didn't care who I ended up hanging out with.. what was I supposed to think? What was I supposed to do?"

  The guilt is making it hard for Ford to get air in, and he watches in shock. A part of him almost reveled in the fact that his brother cared for him that much.. but another was filled with shame and sorrow. Concern.

  "..Stanley-"

  "You've always told me what to do. You've always told me to get up, to go to school, take a shower, helped me with the dishes, helped me with cooking, helped me with my homework when I asked for it.. I - I was.. .. I was lost, Ford. You don't know what that feels like because you're always rational, logical, all the sciency, nerdy shit running through your head.. but I don't.. I don't think straight. You've always been there for me. I didn't.. .. I was.. worthless."

  Ford feels cold tears drip down his own face, sniffling and reaching over. Stan instinctively flinches - but when he realizes its Ford and not his father's hand about to smack or punch him, he sinks down, letting the six-fingered hand run through his hair.

  "..I love you, Stanley.. I-I'm so sorry.. I.. I should have told you, I.."

  "Told me ?" He mumbles slowly, glancing at his older twin in confusion.

  "..My plan." 


	4. Chapter 4

  "This is our chance, Stanley." Ford says, and there's excitement laced in his tone, where sadness and guilt had been mere seconds before. And Stan arches a brow at his smiling brother from his hospital bed, quite confused from the sudden change in emotions.

  "Uh.. our chance for what?" He repeats, lips in a small frown, eyes showing his lack of understanding.

  "My college..!"

  "Oiii," Stan sighs in annoyance, throwing his hands up and sinking back down. "That's it, I give up, it's all about you, Ford-"

  "No, no, no, no! Listen! Stanley, listen!" He cups his brother's face and loving brown eyes stare back at his, and the older twin feels his cheeks flush. Four months without Stanley looking at him like that.. Four months without Stanley to hold him in bed.. Four months without Stanley's lips -

  "Ford, we're in a hospital." His twin mumbles defensively. Right, right, a public place, sure the door was shut, the curtains drawn, but who knew of the chances that they'd get caught and - taken away from each other. God, no, he could not let that happen. Not when they were so close to prosperity. 

  "Right." He lowers his six-fingered hands and twitches a little. "Okay, so - once I graduate college, I'll get a really classy job and-"

  "Oh god, _FORD_ , quit rubbing it in!" Stan hissed through clenched teeth. "It's getting on my fucking nerves!"

  "Stanley, you're not listening!! Once I get a job I can get us our own place, and then we can be together! With nobody to judge us, nobody to-"

  "You and I both know whatever type of shitty job you get will take up all your time and you won't see me anymore..! Fuck, why didn't I just cut deeper..!?"

  The words send chills through him and hurt him, anger him all at once and he smacks Stanley across the face. He watches the tears well in his twin's eyes. "O..oh.. oh.. Stanley, Stanley I didn't-"

  "Get out."

  "Stanley, I didn't mean that, you know I'd never-"

  "I SAID GET OUT, FORD!" The shout makes him flinch and he rushes out of the room, lingering in the hallway. His mother approaches him. "W-well?? How's Stanley?"

  "..He's .. he's talking." Ford mumbles, unsure what else to say. His heart aches.. ..his dream.. was it really..impossible..


	5. Chapter 5

  Ford paced the hospital hallway until his legs went numb. His mother went home when it turned to midnight. It occurred to Stanford that their father hadn't been in once to see Stanley, but why should he be shocked about that. A nurse finally started to walk past with a tray of food, but Ford quickly halted her. 

  "It's uh- it's my brother in the other room, can I.. .. can I give it to him?"

  She gave the man an odd look before shrugging and handing him the tray, walking past. Ford silently mused to himself that the food was probably cold since it was 1 A.M. or so, but at least it gave him a valid excuse to slip into the hospital room. He couldn't believe himself. He'd .. he'd hit Stanley. Would Stan forgive him? Would Stan still want to live with him? His chest ached as he pushed the room door open.

  Stan's position was slightly slumped, his head hanging rather limply off the side of the pillows. Dreaming. He was mumbling, hands grasping at the bedsheets lightly. No nightmares. No, Ford knew when his brother had nightmares. He was much louder, much more shaky, sweaty, desperate to wake. Ford sit the tray of food on a chair nearby and gently brushed a brown lock from his twin's face, watching his expression soften.

  "Stanley.." he tried gently, he knew his brother probably needed the rest, but God, he would not be able to go to sleep himself unless Stanley forgave him. The younger brother's eyes opened slowly. "Please, I didn't mean to hit you.. please, I just want this.. ..this chance to prove I can really get us away from here.. get us a place where we can be together.."

  ".. ..Ford." Stan says slowly, and the older twin starts to relax, just a little.

  "..We can't.. don't you get it? This woulda never worked out in the first place.. I'm your brother.. I.. I'm sorry, I.. shouldn't of made you feel guilty for following your dreams.. I don't know what I'm gonna do, but I'm glad you've got your career planned out."

  He felt lightheaded, his hands twitching slightly at his sides. "W..wh..what?"

  "..Go back to college, Ford. I'm fine. I'll - be fine. I'll get better."

  "St.. ..S..Stanley, please," he tries, surprised by how soft and broken his tone is. "Stanley-"

  "Please, Ford.. there's nothing to argue about .. please just.. .. get out.."

  What can he say? What can he do? He can't force Stanley to love him, he can't force Stanley to come with him. He can't force Stanley to be his lover. He feels cold tears rolling down his warm face, and he struggles to breathe, to speak past it.

  "B..But Stanley, we - I - I was so - I was so-" 

  Brown eyes stare back at him, with emptiness.

  Ford feels himself start to hyperventilate, and watches the eyes slowly fill with concern. "Ford-"

  "I'm fine." He whispers, knowing he was far from it, and dashing out of the room, dashing out of the hospital. He slid to a stop and glanced around, spotting a small bench, sinking onto it as he sobbed quietly, tears streaking down his face, the air muggy from where it had been raining.

  _Goddamn you Stanley._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I am really surprised I'm trying to continue one of these fics. It's been a long time. And I still have awful writer's block. Bear with me ?

  He approaches the room again. He knew he couldn't make Stanley change his mind, couldn't make Stanley suddenly love him all over again. But love didn't just fade in minutes, and love if it was strong enough, if it had built on years and years.. it could always be fixed.

  "Stanley?" Ford asks as he steps in, and he's expecting his twin to get up, threaten to punch him if he doesn't leave. But there are tears in Stan's eyes again. He's holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hands, and his older twin nearly convulses when he realizes what it was.

  When he was twelve, he had told his brother. He hadn't told him very well, but he had been a child, and even then, he was unsure how to explain. How to explain his true feelings. Ford had been so proud of it at the time, and he never had suspected Stan to keep it. But there it was. It's ink still smudgy. Even from this angle, he can make out a few of the words.  
  
 _When we hold hands, I feel like we could-_

  Stan crams the paper under the bedsheet and manages a teary glare at his sibling. "What, Sixer? Forget something??"

  _"..Grab the stars."_ Ford whispers, watching as the words make his twin all the more upset. "Stanley.."

  "Please, Ford. You're the smartest person I know, why are you - why are you acting so dumb about _this_ of all things?" Stan rubs at his sore neck, now glancing at his feet under the sheets.

  "Because it's you, Stanley."

  "Ford, don't-" The door locks back with a soft click, and in no time six-fingered hands are brushing Stan's sides, one brushing back up and finding his digits combing through his sibling's brown locks. Stan can't manage a word now, because _his_ hands are on him, _his_  body is suddenly so much closer, and the need for his brother to be there was too much.

  Stanford has never been one to really initiate things, but in this moment, he feels the need to, to reassure Stan that they had each other. This could work. If they just both believed, it could work. He knew it could.

  Ford dips his head down, brushing his tongue over his twin's lower lip, before gingerly moving it inside his mouth. Their saliva mixes in no time as Stan kisses back, practically trying to drag his older brother into the bed with him. But then he remembers who they are, he remembers where they are, and he remembers that Ford.. deserves.. so much more.

  And he shoves him away now, shoves him hard, that Ford barely has any time to catch his balance. But he does. And he glares hard at his stubborn twin, finding his teeth grit from where so many harsh, meaningless words wish to escape him.

 

  _Fuck you, Stanley. We can do this Stanley. C'mon, Stan. Please. Don't make me be alone. You mean so much to me. Please, just get up. Let's just sneak out of here. Please._

 

 But none of these words are uttered, and Ford finally takes it in, realizes that his brother is done. The door unlocks and the man lingers there for a moment. 

  "..I really do love you." Ford forces the words out, before he shuts the door behind him. Stan listens to the sound of his brother walking away, his mind racing, silently begging for the man to return. But he doesn't.


	7. Chapter 7

  "I can't believe I did this," Ford whispers to himself, he regrets it, he regrets it so much. If he hadn't come down here, if he had just stayed back at his college, if he'd ignored his mother's words, thinking that she was merely teasing him, if he'd just returned to his classes. Then he could of at least pretended that Stan still loved him, as he had been. Could of pretended that he would get the money to buy them a house, manage to convince him to come with him.

  Then he wouldn't of dug such a deeper hole into Stanley and his own chest. His hands shake as they grab the car wheel, but he can't force himself to drive right now. There is so much rage and so much hurt in him, and even as he glares at the road, tries to convince himself to leave once more, it's just not working.

  What if Stan did this whole thing again. What if he really cut himself bad this time. Hell, what if he decided he'd go out in a bath tub full of water and drop a damn toaster into the liquid and electrocute himself to death. Stanley may not have possessed the full intelligence of his older brother, but death was one thing that Stanley had studied a lot of.

  History and death were the only two interests his twin had noticed he seemed to be interested in as they had grown. But even then - that history was history of mobs, gambling, dangerous deals, drugs. Who knows, perhaps if Stanly killed himself now, he wouldn't have to get the electric chair later on in life from all the crime he might commit.

  At this thought Stanford slams his head forward on the car wheel and shakes it in his rage. Rage at himself, rage at his younger sibling.

  He just wants to drive back to the college and go back to what he was good at. Learning about science, proving how smart he was to his peers. Peers. What was he talking about, he didn't have any friends there. Hell, he didn't have family there with him.

  "..Stanley, please. Ch-change your stubborn mind and come out to the car.." Ford whispers, pleads, begs as he starts the car, the radio clicking on, but it's background noise over all his thoughts, his fears, his heartache.

  "..Ford.." What time was it? From his window he can see a glimpse of a pale blue sky, of the Sun rising. How long had they been talking..? How long had they been arguing? It felt like forever, and honestly Stan never liked to cause issues with his brother. But this time around, Stan had to be the older brother. Ford just - he couldn't throw his life away for a low life like Stanley. He could get in serious trouble..

  His grip on his hospital pillow tightens to the point that he hears the fabric tear. He imagines that it's his older brother, holding him tightly, after one of his dreadful nightmares. Even when he was seventeen, he still had those dreams. Still clung onto Ford for relief.

  But this time it isn't a dream. It's an awful reality. The tears are streaming down his face, hanging around his chin, and the fabric of the pillow starting to take in all the moisture. Stan knows he can't burden his parents with himself any longer. Even if their father rarely showed concern, their mother certainly did the opposite. He couldn't keep this up. He couldn't stay with his family any longer.

  Stan gets up, clinging to his pillow and approaching the window, daring to move some of the blinds past. He spots his brother's car still parked by the curb, sees him just gripping the wheel for dear life. His heart aches, his stomach lurches a bit. Stanley rips his IV out, along with the other cords attached to him.

  Time to move on.


	8. Chapter 8

  His entire body is shaking as he slips through the woods, as he rips the bandages from his wrists. He's alone. He always has been. Even though Ford was there, he was never really _there_. Why did it take so long for him to realize that? He's downright sobbing now, unused to the sound of his own voice as the tears pool down and down. He has nowhere to go, he's in a damn hospital gown. It's the dead of morning or night, the time when no one with any sense would be awake. He steps out of the trees, and finds himself in the middle of the road, a car's headlights.

  Stan shuts his eyes as he hears the car slam on its brakes.

  He cautiously opens his eyes once more, spotting the man inside, who looks angry more than anything else, the engine running in their silence. Stan flinches when the door suddenly clicks open and backs up as the stranger approaches him.

  "Please, look, p-lease don't take me back, I just- I'm sorry-"

  The man grabs Stan by his nightgown and starts dragging him back to his car. Stan is too tired, too weak emotionally and physically to fight back. He's gonna be shot, or brought back to the hospital, or worse, this guy is gonna fuck him in the back of his vehicle.

  But instead he simply shoves Stan into the passenger seat, and then they're off on the road. And they're heading far from New Jersey.

  "S-so what's your name?" The man at the wheel asks, as if they were already close friends.

  "..Stanley." Stan whispers, his heart aching, as the only one who truly called him that was his twin.

  "Well, Stan. I've-I've seen that look in someone's eyes before.. and whoever f-fucked you up, is gone now. D-don't worry. You can stick-stick with me 'til you feel better." Rick pulls out his flask, sipping from it as he steers. "I-I'm Rick Sanchez. It-it was a good thing I was just passing through, h-huh buddy?" He offers the flask to Stan.

  Stan notices as he does, that the male's wrists are also scarred. He glances at the flask in his hands before he dares to gulp some down.

  _Fuck you, Stanford Pines._


	9. Chapter 9

  Rick's house was bigger than their parents' house. It was a bit messier too. It reminded Stan of his half of his bedroom, with the way papers were crumpled up everywhere. Bottles of alcohol here or there, on the floor, table stands. The place felt comforting, and warm. The male shut the front door behind him before approaching Stan, liquor still thick as ever on his breath.

  "You want a s-shower?" Rick asked gently.

  It took the words a few more seconds to register before Stan realized once more that he was in only a hospital gown. "Uh-um, yeah." As if sensing his nerves, Rick placed his cold hand on the other's shoulder, rubbing comfortingly.

  "Don't w-orry. There's a bathroom, second door to-to the right," the slender male mumbled, "I'll g-get you some clothes once you're out.." Rick's eyes seemed anywhere but on Stan, and he knew that he was doing that for his benefit.

  Stanley managed a small nod and followed his instructions to the bathroom. Honestly, he was feeling a lot better. Not once had he thought of his brother since he'd ran into Rick, which was a few hours ago, and his mouth still tasted a bit of vodka from the man's flask. Stan took a warm shower. In between the time he was in the shower, Rick must've slipped in, as a white shirt and boxers sat there patiently for him. Once Stan dried himself off he wondered why Rick had such bigger clothes when the man was so small.. then again, maybe Rick had a bunch of different people over. Maybe he was already dating someone else.

  Stan's hands shook a bit, as he realized he didn't have as many fingers as his twin. Tears brimmed in his eyes, silently wondering if Ford was even worried about him. He knew that Ford should move on with his life, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt to think of him just ignoring his brother's existence.

  Stan sank to the bathroom floor, clinging to the clothes as he sobbed softly. The heartache was back and forth, back and forth. He tried not to focus on it, tried to think of anything but Ford, but this didn't work a bit. No, not one bit. If anything he remembered the both of them sharing their first beer when they were sixteen, he remembered kissing on the Stan'O War, remembered the first time Ford actually screamed his name in pleasure, thank god that was when neither of their parents were home.

  Cold hands were pulling Stan off the floor.

  "C'mon, there-there's no point in crying 'bout it," Rick informed, though he had no idea what exactly had happened to Stanley. Stan would've been embarrassed that Rick was helping him get dressed and wipe his tears away, if he was able to focus on anything else but the pain in his chest.

  "I-I know it's hard. H-hey do-do you like grilled cheese?" Slender fingers hooked around Stan's wrist and led him out to the kitchen. He managed a shaky nod. He thought this stay would only be for a few days, but it lasted quite a few years.


	10. Chapter 10

  The boat rocks a bit. Or maybe that's just his imagination, or maybe his head's so dizzy that he thinks it's rocking. Lips are entangled, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt. Saliva entwined, practically grinding against each other, with the way they shift to make the kiss deeper. He's groaning lowly under his breath, such in deep pleasure. He could do this over and over again, no matter how tired he was. He never tired of his taste, or the feeling of his hands on him. Those fingers, those six digits, knew just how to make him hard.

 

* * *

 

 

  Stan wakes slowly, feeling groggy. What woke him? Rick never uses his alarm. The TV is always on low volume, so it's not that. He sits up a bit when he realizes it's still dark, and the fact that he's aroused. He glances over at the slender male sleeping in bed beside him. His head aches a bit, probably from how much liquor he'd drank tonight. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. Nope, he still didn't have those hands on him, as much as he begged.

  If he can get to the bathroom he can probably get rid of his problem, but Rick was a light sleeper, so that wouldn't make this easy. He stands slowly, the bed giving a slight creak. He glances back at Rick, the man's mouth is hung open as he dreams, murmuring a bit. Stan walks out of the bathroom, only to realize he couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep slipping into the bathroom late at night to jerk off about old memories, of his brother. He loved Rick, Rick had been so kind to him, taken him in, got him a job, shared his drugs and his alcohol with him.

  But oh how he missed Ford _dearly._

  Missed his glasses, missed the way he spoke, the fact he corrected Stanley's grammar half the time.

  His fingers are on the bathroom door knob, but he just.. he doesn't want it. He doesn't want the feel of his own hand, and he doesn't want Rick right now. He wants Ford. He glances back at the car keys hanging on the wall. And before he knows it, he's walking out the front door.

  He has no idea where he's going, and he honestly doesn't care if Rick will wake up pissed off or not.


	11. Chapter 11

  He knows he's not really going anywhere. Sure, he's in the car, and he's driving, but he's driving around town. Down the same streets and the same roads, the same places that after a few years you come to know and love. He passes the bar where he and Rick shared their first kiss, sighing softly as a bubble of guilt festers in his chest. How on Earth can he _still_ be in love with Ford? He's even got a new boyfriend, someone who patched him up, took care of him - _and_ showed him how to have fun. With Ford, it was all text books, studying, writing, it never seemed like there was a split second that Ford _wasn't_ learning something new, which Stan found - a bit boring honestly.

  And yet he missed him. Missed him to his very core. He and his brother were the same, but so different in so many ways. Their voices, their choices in physical appearance, their hands. He wondered if Ford had ever once stopped on his way to become smarter, to think about his twin. Since the day that he'd snuck out of the hospital, and told him to move on with his life. Stan slowed to a stop at the red light, sighing through his teeth. There had to be a way to get over this for sure. To get the thought of his brother out of his mind.

  He ran his thick fingers through his brown locks, before his hand returned to the wheel. Five years without Ford, and he was still thinking about him. Thinking about his touch and his voice. He couldn't remember the sound of his voice. His hands shake a bit on the wheel as a car pulls up beside him. It's the dead of the night, who would be out now? Stan reaches over to roll his window up, and he spots a pair of brown eyes staring back at him.

  His heart skips a beat and quickens, feeling his face flush a bit as he's caught in the man's gaze. _"F..ord.."_ The other's window is rolled up, and it's now that Stan notices a stranger in Ford's car, a smaller male who's leaned forward in the passenger seat, practically sucking onto his twin's neck. He watches Ford's lips move, and he knows the word that's not uttered, he knows it's his name, and he turns back to see the light's still red, but he slams his foot hard on the gas, spinning out a bit before he goes across the road.

  Fiddleford pulls away from his boyfriend when he hears the tires peel, oblivious to what had just occurred. "What an asshole.."


End file.
